Warning: Extreme Hormones Ahead
by DreamingAuthoress
Summary: Why, WHY didn't anyone warn me about how crazy pregnant women are! A fedup Harry rants about his wife's craziness during pregnancy. Please excuse any html errors. I'm still smoothing that out. Review please!


Disclaimer: If I was Jo, I would be taking a well deserved break. Anyways, I hope you enjoy my attempt at Harry/Ginny craziness. I love hormonal pregnant women stories, and this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so-BAM-here ya are. 

Why, WHY didn't anyone tell me how crazy women get when they are pregnant!?

Surely Lupin could've dropped a hint? Certainly Bill! Even Mr. Weasley! I mean, Mrs. Weasley was pregnant six times! Surely he has some good advice!

Or maybe it's just my wife. Maybe Tonks wasn't a nutso. Maybe Fleur wasn't all hormonal. Maybe Mrs. Weasley was actually NORMAL during her six pregnancies. Maybe it's just Gin.

When Ginny first told me she was pregnant, I was ecstatic. I picked her up and spun her around, right then, right there. Then immediately set her back down again, asking her if I was allowed to do that. After she assured me it was ok, I then picked her back up and kissed her fiercely. I was the picture of a proud daddy-to-be. Mrs. Weasley knew as soon as I walked in their door the next day.

"So,when's Ginny due?" she asked. I stared dumbly at her for a few seconds then automatically responded with the date and asked, "How did you know?"

"Please, Harry dear, I've seen the proud papa strut many times. Boy or girl?" Still flustered I responded slightly jumbledly,

"Er…we don't know yet…surprise…is it really that bad? What's the difference…I didn't notice…" I trailed off musing to myself as Mrs. Weasley patted me on the arm and said,

"We're very proud, dear." At the word 'proud', I began beaming again and strutted off to tell Ron. He responded in the typical Ron way, whooping and slapping me on the back then remarked,

"I guess your party life is over then?" Like I actually _ had _ a party life. Being an Auror is tough!

I told every single person I knew, and some I didn't. Within a day, everyone in the office knew. Within two, everyone in the Ministry knew. In another three, the whole country knew. Within a week, the whole world knew. I was still the proud daddy.

When Ginny started having morning sickness, I was there. I comfortably rubbed her back and pulled her hair back for her. I took off the day from work and completely pampered her. We knew that it was natural and would pass quickly. We hoped.

What I did _ not _ know was that puking was Ginny's natural reaction to everything. Somebody could've supplied that bit of information to me too. She puked every DAY in her first year. Wake up, get dressed, puke, go eat breakfast. That's how she lived her first year! She hadn't been sick hardly at all while we had been married, so I did not know this. And I really wish I did before we decided to have kids.

Ginny didn't have _ morning _ sickness. I think I could've handled _ morning _ sickness. But this wasn't. This was ' 3 o'clock in the morning when normal people sleep' sickness. '11 o'clock in the morning while making a late breakfast as Ginny was puking to much to eat at a regular time' sickness. ' 4:32 in the afternoon while in the middle of an important paper' sickness. She even got up form the supper table to puke!

It 

Never 

Ends.

But you know, I think I could've handled the puking by itself. But it was also mood swings.

Like, for instance, I came home for supper yesterday. I was exhausted, had a horrible day, and was really looking forward to that big, juicy, fat steak I had bought yesterday. I apparate home and open the front door and smoke comes billowing out! I cough and make my way to the kitchen wear I find my wife standing calmly in the doorway, dressed in the cutest top, hair all nice, pretty jewelry, makeup…and…sweat pants and high heels. She quite calmly looks at me and says,

" I slightly overcooked the steak. We're going out." A pile of ash was behind her. Just as calm as ever, she takes me by the hand and leads me outside and we get into the car and go to a McDonalds. And the day before, I came home and she was sitting in the laundry room crying her eyes out because she couldn't figure out our new dryer. It took me two hours and three crates of strawberries to calm her down. She can be happy one minute, crying the next. She'll be just as likely to smack me as kiss me.

And those crazy cravings! She cooks the weirdest stuff and expects _ me _ to eat it too! A few weeks ago, I came home to strawberry, chicken, and peanut butter pasta! She declared it the best thing ever and had it for two weeks! I had Ron supply me with plenty of Hermione and Mrs. Weasley's cooking. I never brought it home, for fear of those mood swings. Luckily though, her love of SCPBP, as she dubbed it, only lasted two weeks. Then it was Strawberry Pickle and Onion Soup. Even nastier than the pasta. I began to have dreams, longing dreams, about SCPBP. Everything we ate had strawberries in it. She _ never _ got tired of strawberries. I apparated all over the world to get strawberries for her. Cause when she craved something, she wanted it NOW!

I now know why supermarkets are open 24/7. It's not because of 'emergencies'. It's because of crazy pregnant women. I get woken up every so often from my happy dreams of eating SCPBP to a whisper of, "Harry. Harry. HARRY! I ate all the strawberry ice cream today. I can't go to sleep cause I want it so bad. Can you go get some. Please?" I look over and she looks so sweet and pathetic, I agree. Especially when she leans over and kisses me softly and says, "I love you sooo much." I can't resist that. So, I resignedly climb out of bed, get dressed in some nice Muggle clothes, and head to the supermarket. I often run into other soon-to-be fathers. I'll nod and talk sympathetically until I run into someone who's wife _ also _ wants strawberry ice cream. And there's only one carton left. Normally we run and scramble for it, and I'll get desperate and pull out my wand and silently Stun the man, pretend that he fainted, grab the ice cream and revive him as soon as it's paid for. I feel slightly bad, but the thought of facing Ginny without the strawberry ice cream is even scarier than the thought of the Minstry of Magic.

With the mood swings, the puking, the tears ALL THE TIME, and the crazy food cravings, it's been a loooong eight months. And there's still one more to go. But you know, as I lay in bed, my arm draped over my extremely pregnant wife's frame, feeling the very active baby kicking me, I decide it's worth it. I'd go through it all again, for moments like these. I still remember when he or she first kicked. It was so special, sharing that moment with Gin, feeling our baby ( _ our baby_ I still don't believe it!) move. I love feeling it at night, although it keeps Gin up and causes more tears. I love it. I love it all. And I'd definitely do it again. It's so worth it. I pull Ginny closer and she snuggles up to me. The moment's perfect. Then she leans up to me and whispers,

"I ate all the strawberry preserves today. I love you soooo much. Can you go get some more for me please? I love you, honeykins."


End file.
